Somedays, when the days are so good, I cannot fathom coming here to spend one single second, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I kept it all for me and didn’t share and because I did that I also cannot come back here to see that good day in action when it has, inevitably, and once again, fallen down into the deep dark.

So here I am. Dark again. So dark I’m blind and dizzy.

I’m drunk with restrictions. Restrictions of all kinds. I’m ingest them fervently.

NO food, NO breath, NO light.

I am angry for my ability to say no to all that is supposed to be good. Because it seems like the only thing left to say no to. Because it gets twisted and contorted into some kind of goodness to say “no” to such things.

I had a dream that included my therapist (when I was still drunk and sleeping) last night. The first thing I heard this morning when I opened my eyes, “Wow, you really cussed “B” out last night.”) According to my husband it was pretty intense and so loud that I woke him up and I was saying “Fuck” a lot. Fuck. And my day has followed that kind of feeling pattern ever since.

My dream (or rather, hearing about my dream) left me feeling very vulnerable and unsafe and alone. I depend on the space of therapy for a lot of my stability right now. Therapy gives me my practice space in life. Therapy is where I can stand up and let go a little and maybe even take a few steps. Then I grab back on as I head out the door with the knowledge that I did let go and I can risk doing it again outside those doors.

But sometimes I fucking crash and land on my head. Hard. And it splits open and shit gushes EVERYWHERE.

Fuck.

And that’s the kind of day it has been. Except for I’m pretty much sure I didn’t let go of anything. I’m pretty sure all this gushing spewing out of me is because somebody to a baseball bat to my brain. There is not possible way this is of my own doing.

Bad day.

Really bad day.

Extremely bad day.

The kind of day I sit back at the end, now, and hope to God I’m going to wake up and my husband is going to tell me I had this really crazy, loud dream and it won’t be real.

But my husband is upstairs sleeping, and I am not.

Maybe you’re wondering why I was drunk last night?

It’s because I had to go to a (f-ing, I’m trying so hard not to cuss because I want to be a christian girl…and fuck me, why can’t I be like those ones who never swear?) It’s because I had to go to a lovely hoity-toity fundraiser where you can buy a table to sit and immerse yourself in bullshit and bad food for a measly few grand with my husband on the “invitation” of his boss who kindly suggested this might be where we should be on an otherwise lovely Saturday evening.

So I had to. I had to have the first, second, third and fourth glass of Merlot. Except for at the end when the Merlot ran out and they gave me Cab.

at least 400 calories wasted on miserable fundraiser people. And believe me, I like to raise money for a good cause and would never complain, but the cause was not for anything with soul or heart. It was for old money with tattoo’s in their ass crack who, therefore, had to walk around with their cheeks very tight together so nobody dare see.

I’m moody.

I think I’m pmsing.

And I think this is the worst day of my fucking life.

And I want to cuss out my therapist for no reason that I am aware of in my daily life, but I sure as hell want to tell him the fuck off!

Why?

Why why why why why.

This day and night is so bigly bad I can’t even get into it. This fucking little posting box is just pissing me off more because it cannot hold all that is inside me right now.

God, why didn’t I get to be a good girl?

I always wanted to be one of the ones that was sort of born that way. One of the ones that maybe forgot once and wore a skirt two mm above their knee and not all the way to the ankle. One of those girls who are soft and wholesome and don’t say fuck. Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

It’s taking a long time and a lot of effort to return here. It doesn’t mean I’m not still working the path. The path just seems to be working me more right now, and I’m getting the feeling that maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be for a while…or forever. I just never know.

Tonight was therapy. I did come home feeling better than when I left and better than when I was in the parking lot preparing to go in to my appointment. Coming back feeling better than when you left is usually a good thing. I wonder if that’s how it is when you die? But I’m not going down into a dark place with this. I just think it probably takes a lot of work while we’re here on earth sometimes (more for some than for others, and for me it’s the “more work for some”) to get to a point where going back is better than when I left….(left that sphere of pre-birth).

I don’t mean to get all weird. I usually never do mean to get weird… even if usually and never are kind of double negatives, somehow. Sometimes, grammar rocks my world, especially when I continuously use it wrong. ; )

Clearly, work is happening, regardless of how it’s happening. And since I am doing better, hopefully that means I’m working in the right direction.

I can’t believe it’s May. I’ve made it into the warm months.

That also means I’m almost a year post-delivery of my youngest child. I remember thinking of things in seasons when I was pregnant. “By the time winter is here I will have a 6 month old!”

But now my baby is almost a year and I’m starting to relinquish thinking in months and seasons a little more. Now she’s becoming more of a little girl…even though technically she’s still a baby and maybe not even classified as a toddler yet.

***

I am doing better as far as living goes. I think.

Up for bat is one emotion I’d rather not deal with, but which has dealt with me for some time, I think, through pain in my body.

ANGER.

I do have some.

So. Hm.

Could Anger be my “A” word? I know that’s not the word I saw in my dream (I shared about in my last post,) but it seems to be it.

It seems like everything I’ve ever been angry about is slapping me right in the face right now. Waking me up, I guess. “Oh, Hi Anger.” Anger is wanting to reconcile.?

Anger is one emotion I could live without.

My whole life has been hazed by it.

It can be a pretty tricky thing when you’re angry and don’t even know it.

So the anger rises and falls.

Mostly, I fall.

But I do get back up.

I’m usually not sure how.

***

I have a lot on my mind. I feel a lot more “private” right now. I’m working things out and things are working in me. I’m just happy to be employed, I guess.

I cannot believe there is supposed to be 11 more days of this. That thought is completely devastating. I hate listening. I hate hearing myself and I absolutely hate being involved in this experiment at all in any way. Especially if it means responding.

I wish I could cry, but first I wish I could run down the street in the freezing cold at full speed. I just want these knees to let me run. Why do they keep knocking me down on the ground. And since I’m at it…Knees, I hate you too!

I don’t know what happened. It was all just going along and then it all changed.

But I can’t even tell about the day. Stuff happened today that maybe I could tell about, but I don’t give a shit about any of it tonight!

This is me listening to my feelings, and this is the response you get.

GO AWAY.

GO AWAY. GO AWAY. GO AWAY.

I knew this would happen. I knew it.

No I didn’t.

But I did.

But I didn’t.

😦

Stupid Idea.

Stupid Me.

What’s so good about listening and responding anyway? What kind of idea was this? It certainly wasn’t my idea.

And God. I’m the one with questions about God. Questions like, “What do I do now, God?” And I want to sass him. I do. I want to be a big brat face sass mouth to God! 😦 But I don’t.

What does God do with fits?

What if it hurts so bad that’s all I know how to do because it’s too big and too much and my body can’t hold it in?

What if it all is roaring to come out? What if I don’t want God to go away, but there’s so much anger there I want to curse him? Why can’t he just give me the answers or make me smart enough to be like the people who know them?

I am sad and tired and angry.

Things happened tonight that made me hurt so much and angry. What do you do when things are happening and you know you feel things, but you don’t know what they are or even exactly why, even if there is an event that sets it off?

I am so upset and angry I can’t even talk about it even to type it out.

I am so upset and angry I can’t even contain it though.

And Stupid LRE I think you’re the dumbest thing on the face of the planet. I hate you, idea.

Well, now I don’t know about anything.

What about God?

Now what, God?

Now what? And why don’t you tell me?

Why do you have to keep making me figure it out? Why am I so stupid?

Yeah, and now what will they think of me?

I want to love on you, you know, but you sure do make that hard sometimes. Especially when I want to be a great big brat face. 😦

Well, I can’t tell the people in blog-land about this day. That’s too bad for me, right? Too bad.

Too bad. Too bad is all of what this night has been. Too bad.

TOO BAD.

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